College Has No Class
by Zenelly
Summary: Of all the things Levi was prepared to do to get tenure, sucking dick was on the list, certainly, but he thought that was going to be more of a metaphorical requirement than anything else. And yet, here he is, up for tenure consideration after all his years of hard work, and he is ready and willing to get on his knees for this man if it means he has a chance.
1. don't you hesitate at all

**Standard Disclaimers Apply**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - don't you hesitate at all**

* * *

Levi's fingers tighten on his briefcase. Here it is. Yet another moment of truth. Standing in front of the rather unassuming door, Levi waits and shifts his weight from one heel to the other and waits some more. His jacket pulls across his shoulders as he lifts one hand to adjust his tie.

_For how many of these circus acts I've gone through before, _he thinks, disgruntled, _you would think I'd have stopped feeling like I'm about to shit myself._

But then again….

Levi sighs. Then again, this is the first time he's even managed to last long enough at a university to even _get _to the committee for consideration. If he has to leave this university, he thinks he might actually be disappointed. Not surprised, but… It would just _suck _if he had to go now, after he's gotten a halfway decent group of grad students working for him _finally_. He has his bar, his coffee shop, his apartment where the heater doesn't quite work right, and he just doesn't want to have to leave.

"Levi."

He straightens imperceptibly, hoping that none of his inner worry shows on his face. The promotions committee would swarm all over him if they thought they say any sign of weakness. Old, backstabbing bastards. He nods curtly at the professor, who smiles back before pulling the door open for him.

Levi enters a well lit room. It is slightly cramped, with a long table taking up the majority of the space in the room, and a single chair -for him, presumably- has been set out in front of the table. Carefully, he sits down and eyes the promotions committee members across the expanse of wood.

He knows most of them, hell his own department head is down at the far left end. For a moment, Levi examines his familiar features before there is a cough and the sound of papers rustling as the positively ancient committee head assembles his notes. Levi takes a deep breath and clenches his fists somewhere the committee can't see.

This is going to go so well.

"Let's get this meeting in session, shall we? We are here today to review Doctor Levi-"

"Levi," he interrupts, fiercely uncomfortable with the thought of hearing such a cold title drop in the middle of this. "Just Levi will be fine."

The committee head blinks, coughs, adjusts himself before continuing. "Levi, then, for the possibility of becoming one of our tenured professors. In your three year stint here, Levi, you've managed to publish an impressive number of papers. Your team of graduate students and post-doctorates is dedicated and highly trained, and the work they do reflects well on your abilities as a mentor, as well as this department and the university itself. However…"

Oh, there's always a however. Levi lets out a quiet breath, dread and a sick sort of resignation twisting his stomach into knots.

"You haven't managed to bring the department any new grants or any funding whatsoever." The promotions chair slides his glasses down and looks sternly over the rim at Levi, who entertains himself by imagining the old geezer taking a huge shit instead. It doesn't do a lot to calm the anxious roiling of his stomach, but it's still funny. "Care to explain why?"

Levi bites back his initial response of, "Because no one has any fucking sense," and crosses his arms. Leaning back in his chair, he examines the rest of the committee's expressions, all seeming to range from vague interest to a sort of condescending anticipation. Yeah, this was going to go _great_. "No one thinks my proposals are good enough, apparently," he begins. And the frustration and hopelessness that he's been bearing down on just swells up, and Levi, for once, can't think of a good reason to watch his tongue. "Despite all of my ground-breaking research that I've been doing consistently time and time again. And I've always been passed over probably because the NSF has their collective head up their ass," he finishes dryly.

Someone coughs like they're choking.

_Good_, Levi thinks. He already knows where this conversation is going. At least he got something in before they fire him.

It really _isn't _his fault no one seems to like his grant proposals.

Well, okay, there's his attitude, but Levi doesn't think that his abrasive personality should get in the way. His work is driven and direct and almost always on the cutting edge, and when it comes to grants, his science should speak for itself without Levi himself having to come into the equation.

(Levi carefully doesn't look down at his department head. He actually almost respects the man, and he doesn't want to feel this tinge of shame for his anger more than he already does. In for a penny, in for a pound, and Levi is sick and tired of being passed over like this.)

The board members settles down from their offended sputtering and the chairman leans forward again. "Well," he says, clearly casting about for something to say, "the university cannot continue to provide for you being here if you-"

"What? If I don't keep doing what I've been doing for the last decade? I have researched my ass off!" Levi taps his foot sharply against the ground. It's not enough, never enough to rid himself of his mounting frustration. "There have been massive leaps and bounds made in microbiology because of my research alone, not to mention all of the work my grads and post-docs have done. Just let me know what part of that wasn't good enough for you. Was it my late nights in the lab? How clean I kept everything? Or maybe it's the fact that I do my shit better than you do?"

There is no answer to that, and Levi curls his lip in a derisive sneer.

"You know what, if you're going to fire me, just fire me. Don't hem and haw about it like you might change your mind depending on whose ass I end up kissing. I'm the most productive primary investigator you have, and if you can't see that, then you all need to reevaluate your fucking priorities." Levi stands up with a loud screech from his chair, and he takes a deep breath, examining the shocked faces of the promotions committee with no small amount of grim satisfaction. "Thanks for the opportunity to work here, but I'm going to clean out my lab and get my things ready to leave. If any of you has anything else to say, just let me know."

Levi turns on his heel and strides out.

No one stops him, and the door falls closed behind him with a final sort of noise that Levi feels all the way down to his bones.

* * *

It is September, and the wind is just beginning to have the weight of chill in it, chasing off the heat still lingering above the concrete. It has people lifting their faces to it, has faint smiles crossing their expressions at its refreshing touch. Students trail along the pathways, chatting loudly or quietly or not at all, buried deeply within themselves or in other people.

Levi, storming out of Hall Maria, immediately hates every single one of them. The wind does nothing for him, except to muss his bangs. Irritably, he fixes them once, twice, gives up after that as he strides down the sidewalk, students taking one glance at his murderous expression before moving quickly out of the way.

It does nothing to mollify his anger, but it does make him tuck his face down past the upturned collar of his long coat, shove his shaking hands into the pockets. He's just so. So mad. Levi had pinned his hopes on this goddamned university, and now, he not only hadn't gotten tenured, he also probably shot himself in the foot for ever getting hired by another university ever again. And he can't even claim that it was worth it.

Stewing in his thoughts, Levi opens the door to the on-campus coffee shop and strides up to the counter.

"Oh, Doctor! Good to see you! You're looking all dressed up today!" the barista says, chipper in every way Levi resents right now. "We'll get your usual-"

"No," he interrupts harshly. "I want a large cup of the vilest, sweetest, most caffeinated and sugary coffee you have. Shit that could raise the dead on fumes alone. Preferably so loaded you can't even taste the coffee in it."

The barista pauses, her hands already reaching for the pot Levi usually gets his coffee from, served blacker than his undergrads claim his heart is. Slowly, she lowers them and pulls out a different cup. "Any… reason why?"

"So when I inevitably vomit it all back up, there'll be permanent damage from all that sugar and tannic acid left for the fucking department to clean."

She nods like she understands, even though it's blatantly clear that all she really wants is to end the conversation before it gets any more disgusting. Whatever. Levi crosses his arms and waits. The students present are either ignoring him or carefully keeping their heads down while looking extremely confused, and Levi lets out a quiet breath, trying to let the relative calm of the shop sink into him.

It doesn't work.

He didn't really expect it to.

Levi sighs harshly, pressing two fingers to the nigh-on permanent groove between his eyebrows, rubbing it to try to alleviate this headache before it gets started. Oh, he needs to clean. He needs to clean badly. His hands are already shaking with the need for everything to be spotless.

"So," the barista asks, interrupting Levi's musing. "Would you like two or three shots of espresso to go with that?"

Levi decides that she gets to avoid his wrath after all. "Three. I'm going to need it."

* * *

He walks out of there with the sweetest thing he's ever attempted to drink, grimacing at every sip but relishing the faint burn of sugar (and possibly his own gag reflex) as it goes down. Serves them right. If he's going to suffer, he's going to go all out.

Despite his resolution, though, Levi is barely able to drink a quarter of the stupid, sugary shit. He pushes the door to his lab open with possibly an ounce too much force, sending it slamming into the wall.

"Levi!" Petra exclaims, and at her voice, the other members of his team pop their heads up. She hurriedly sets down her pen and paper and goes up to him, tucking an errant strand of ginger hair behind her ear. "How did it go?"

Levi looks her squarely in the eye, glad -as he is every time- that Petra is close to his height so he doesn't have to look up at her like he does so many others. That would just be the fucking icing on the cake right now. He calmly opens his mouth and, in his most levelheaded voice, says, "Get the fuck out of my lab. All of you."

The silence that follows is so, so achingly confused.

Levi _almost _feels bad.

"Captain…?" Erd ventures, and that pitiful tone of voice does it. Levi officially does not want them here anymore. They're all so stupid looking, staring at him with wide eyes and slack jaws, and he doesn't want to explain to them exactly how he's managed to fuck it all up this time. And he definitely doesn't want to hear that stupid nickname Petra gave him when she first joined his team.

"Do you all have shit in your ears or something?" Levi asks acerbically as he sets down the cup. "Get the fuck out of my lab, and take your shit with you. I _need to clean_."

He's not going to deny the sense of satisfaction he gets as they immediately scramble to clear their things and leave. He grunts, pleased, as the last of them clears out. Levi looks around the now empty lab and sighs, feeling the itch to clean burn in him, and he gets to work, pulling out the dustrag, broom, and dustpan first to deal with some of the detritus of students being here.

He sheds his jacket easily, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and tying a handkerchief around his nose and mouth before he gets started. The mindless rhythm of cleaning helps settle the sickly boiling that his stomach is going through right now, and Levi will take the silence where he can.

_What is he even going to do?_

It's only a few minutes later that he's emptying the last bit of dust into the trashcan. Alright, with that done, Levi can get out his mops and sponges. He'll have to heat up some water first; it's been… two weeks since he last cleaned the lab himself, and he can't trust his students to know the proper ratio of bleach to water, no matter how many times he writes it down for them.

"Oho, you really are going to sanitize everything, aren't you!" exclaims a voice from the doorway. "No wonder your grad students came to get me."

Pulling down his handkerchief, Levi turns to glare at Hanji, who is peering around the room with a disgustingly excited face. Noticing that they are under scrutiny, Hanji straightens, adjusting their glasses with a few economical motions, grinning widely the whole time. Levi shakes his head. "No, my team went to get you because they're a bunch of spineless traitors who clearly don't want their PhDs."

"Actually, I think they were a bit more worried that you'd try to autoclave the whole room. At least, that's what they said to me."

Snorting, Levi rolls his eyes. "Please, as if I'd autoclave my lab."

"See, that's what I said!"

"I haven't figured out how to appropriately pressurize this room for it to be its own autoclave. I've told them that before. Bleach will just have to do until the department catches up and starts letting me use vaporized hydrogen peroxide. But no, there's always something about 'safety standards.'"

There's a beat of silence before Hanji bursts out laughing. Levi regards them with a sort of fond amusement, his own mouth twitching into a traitorous smile before he schools it into impassivity again. As Hanji slowly gets themself under control, Levi pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a mop and bucket.

"What in the world is that smell? Levi, is that your coffee? It's not motor oil, so it can't be. You never get real-people coffee."

Side-eyeing aforementioned cup, he debates internally, finally regretting allowing his tide of bitterness to carry him to the point of ordering shitty not-coffee he doesn't even like. Well. No sense in letting it go to waste. "It's yours if you want it, four-eyes. Just make sure you don't spill it anywhere, or I'll have to kill you."

Hanji's noise of agreement is muffled by the coffeecup. "So, how'd the hearing go? Did you get tenured?"

"Just drink your fucking liquid frou-frou bullshit and get out of here. You're bothering me," Levi snaps.

Hanji grins, and it's _almost _a sympathetic expression. "I'm guessing that's a 'no,' then."

Slamming the bucket down on one of the countertops serves no real purpose, but the loud clatter it makes does make the frustration and twisted hopelessness in him feel marginally better. "Yes, you're right," he grates out. "It was a no. Thank you so much for driving that home. So now, if you'll fuck off and excuse me, I'm going to clean this goddamned lab so well it will make cleaning staff mourn my loss for _years _since they'll never be able to get it back to this pristine of a condition. Then I'll pack up my shit, and give this place the middle finger." Levi turns the faucet on and checks the water temperature before he places the bucket under, letting the sound of water filling it occupy the silence between him and Hanji.

After a few moments, though, Levi sighs and looks up at Hanji, who is shaking their head, long brown ponytail bobbing between their shoulders. "Only you," they say, amusement dripping from every word, "can _clean _passive-aggressively."

"Get with the program, four-eyes. This is very aggressive cleaning," Levi snorts, returning his attention to the bucket of warm water in front of him. He pulls over the bottle of bleach and carefully measures out a small amount, pouring it into the water and swirling the whole thing to mix properly. "There are a lot of things that only I can do. Not that the fucking committee knows that with the shit over their eyes they get from kissing as much ass as they do all day." He reties the handkerchief over his nose and continues his tirade. "I mean, what is it? Are my papers not good enough for them? Have I not written _enough _papers? I'm only published, what, a hundred times at least? Am _I _just not good enough?"

"Actually," comes a new voice, smooth and low and fuck, if Levi wasn't already fired, he's pretty sure he would be now. "It was slightly more to do with the lack of funding you've managed to secure over your past few years here."

Closing his eyes, Levi resigns himself to this conversation that he doesn't want to have. He just wants to clean and focus by cleaning before he has to leave yet another fucking university and try his luck somewhere else. Slowly, he turns around, muscles tense with pent up emotion.

And, of course, there, leaning in the doorway of the lab as though he wasn't just watching his promotions committee tear Levi a new one (or possibly the other way around) fifteen minutes ago, is Erwin Smith.

His department head.

Or _ex-_department head, as it stands now.

"Doctor Smith," he says stiffly. Smith smiles at him, the expression somehow distant before he shifts his shoulders, straightening with a sort of focus that makes Levi tense instinctively. He fights to keep his stance loose.

"Levi, please," Smith says smoothly. Too smoothly. "We've been working together for three years now. I believe that you can at least call me Erwin."

…Is this asshole for real?

Does he not remember essentially firing Levi? Levi waits for a second, but when Smith keeps smiling at him in that bland, noncommittal way he has, Levi has to roll his eyes internally. Fine, he'll play nice. For now. "Whatever you say, _Erwin_," he says, probably a touch too sarcastically, but Levi doesn't have a reason to care anymore.

Smith, interestingly enough, only seems to become genuinely amused at that before he turns to greet Hanji cordially.

Levi clenches his hand rhythmically behind his back, holding back his urge to run or yell at Smith in the tight flex-unflex of his hand's tendons. He eyes his bucket and mop, wondering if he could just begin cleaning if this bastard's here to talk to Hanji, because he does _not _want to be interrupted right now. Reaching out for the bucket-

"Actually, Levi, before you get started with that, there is something I need to talk to you about."

Of fucking course.

Glancing up -and up, god everything about Smith pisses Levi off right now, but his height is always just _unfair_\- at Smith, Levi pulls his handkerchief back down to rest around his neck. "What is it?" he asks flatly.

Smith only turns and gestures. "Follow me." He doesn't wait for acknowledgment before he strides out of Levi's lab, and god damn it, Levi hates his presumption that he's just going to follow.

He hates that Smith is right more.

"Keep everyone out of my lab," he orders Hanji as he passes. They smile, wolfish, saluting with sarcasm keen in every line of their stance. Great. It seems like no one is listening to him today when he wants them to.

If the world adhered to Levi's sense of the dramatic, the walk from his lab to Smith's office would be long and tense, the hallways ill-lit, with their footsteps ringing along the walls. Instead, it's nothing in particular. The halls have their typical glow of faint afternoon sunlight; Levi is tense where Smith has no tension visible in his gait or stature; even their steps make only small tapping sounds. Nothing to be remarked about.

The universe is just out to disappoint him today, it seems.

They reach the office in no time, and Smith gestures for Levi to close the door behind him once they enter.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Levi asks after a few moments of silence, hackles already raised and bristling. His lab is on its way to being cleaned up and emptied out, so really Smith has no reason to complain about anything. Other than maybe the swearing in front of the promotions committee, but really, Levi can be excused for that. He's not going to be working here anymore anyway.

Smith doesn't answer immediately, instead settling down in his chair, hands steepled in front of him on the desk. "Please, Levi, take a seat," he instructs.

"I'd like to stay standing, actually." Levi bites back the rest of his words and waits there, just inside the door, jaw clenched tightly.

"I insist, Levi. This isn't a discussion I'm going to have with you looming over me like that," Smith says, faint amusement lurking around his eyes. Levi has almost never wanted to punch someone as badly as he does right now. Almost. But when it becomes clear that Smith isn't going to talk until Levi is sitting, Levi lets out a tight breath and plants himself in the remaining chair. He spreads his hands in a "Now what?" gesture.

Smith smiles again. "Levi, I'm fairly certain you understand the position you're in here."

"The position of getting politely told to pack my shit and leave? Yeah, I got that pretty much down to a science," Levi says sarcastically, scorn twisting his mouth. He really is used to it. It's the reason he's been bouncing around universities ever since he graduated.

Smith leans forward on his elbows, and Levi stares back, outwardly impassive while inwardly caught somewhere in the intensity of his stare. Sometimes he forgets how very broad Smith is, how stupidly charismatic he is, but when Levi is pinned by that look…. "You are a brilliant researcher, Levi. Your reports and papers are utterly immaculate, and the volume and quality of the ones you have published proves that. Despite that, you seem somehow unable to get grant funding, which is why you have been rejected for tenure."

Levi opens his mouth to argue and is stopped as Smith holds up his hand.

"_However_," he stresses, "this department cannot allow a man of your skill slip by, which is why I am going to offer you a deal."

There is a long pause as Levi waits for Smith to elaborate. When nothing seems to be forthcoming, Levi's frown deepens. He waits for a few seconds more before capitulating to Smith's silent (and fucking childish, in Levi's opinion) demands yet again. Sighing, he grates out, "What's the deal?"

Visibly pleased, Smith spreads his hands, leaning back in his chair with a quiet creak of leather. "I come up with the funding for you to remain here another year. In this year, you are going to apply for every grant you possibly can. If you can get yourself sufficiently funded by the time you come around for review next year, I guarantee that you will be tenured."

Levi freezes.

That.

Is one hell of a deal.

"How?" he demands, harsh and immediate as his mind whirls through the possibilities. He's been an assistant professor at various universities for the past decade, and he knows, beyond a shadow of doubt, that there is no 'guarantee' when it comes to getting tenure.

"For a year, I'm going to allocate enough of the department's funding to you for you to continue your research. Your grad students and post-docs should be able to stay on as well, so long as you don't manage to, ah, actually piss off even more of your fellow academics than you already have and completely destroy your chances at actually getting grants."

(Levi snorts at that. Any "colleagues" he's pissed off have deserved it for being narrow-minded old bastards.)

Smith continues. "I can only manage that for a year, however. So you have until tenure consideration next year." Smith lets out a breath and braces his broad forearms on the desk, and it's only when Levi's elbows touch the desk too does he realize that he is unconsciously mimicking Smith. He scowls, but he can't exactly back up now without looking foolish. Smith examines him briefly. "Now, you have to understand a few things before you agree to this.

"Your hissy fit today-" (and Levi rolls his eyes. Who even says hissy fit anymore?) "- did you no favors. Academics have long, petty memories, and they're going to be confused and very angry when you stay on despite their decision to not allow you tenure. I need you to focus first on your grant applications. Let me handle the promotions committee and the rest of the department first.

"Also, you are still expected to carry out all of your previous duties, so don't think that you can hole yourself up just to work on applications. I'm putting myself in a rather precarious position by doing this. Now. Do we have a deal?" Smith cocks an eyebrow at Levi, bored and challenging all at once, and Levi chews on the inside of his cheek instead of answering. "Unless, of course, you don't think you're up to the challenge…?"

Levi's lips pull back in a sneer, and he pushes his chair back with a clatter. "I am _more _than up to your shitty _challenge_. You don't think I can get funding in a year? I'll get funding in a few months. Prove you _and _all of those old bastards wrong. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early, _Doctor Smith_." Levi turns on his heel and stalks to the door, shoulders tight with burning frustration.

Smith's voice stops him with his hand on the door handle.

"One year, Levi," Erwin Smith says, and Levi takes a steady breath in instead of clenching his fist around the door handle like he wants to. "Prove to me that you are worth me sticking my neck out for you like this. Don't make me regret it."

There's a tenor in his voice that makes Levi almost want to salute, but he smothers the urge. Bastard would probably think it was genuine. Instead, he settles for nodding curtly and then getting the hell out of there.

Securing funding in a year.

Not an impossible task, he thinks as he goes towards his lab. Or at least it shouldn't be. But Levi has spent the last ten years bouncing from university to university for one reason, and it always boils back down to funding. The world of academia is remarkably cut-throat, and for whatever reason, and no matter who he turns to, no one seems willing to give him _anything_.

But at the same time….

At the same time, Levi has a small, vicious smile cutting across his mouth. He feels. Excited. Which is something he hasn't been about research in awhile. Or the possibility of last few years, it felt more like he was trying to make associate professor more out of rote than anything else, and this…

After so many years, it's refreshing to feel like he has something akin to a purpose again. Hopeful, almost, if he was going to apply words like that to himself.

Levi slams open the door to his lab, taking no small amount of pleasure in the way his grad team flinches when he does.

"I see you all skulked back in the instant you felt safe."

"Doctor Hanji came to get us," Petra admits. She twists her fingers together in a rare show of anxiety. "Doctor-, I mean, Levi. Captain. What's happening? What are we supposed to do?"

Levi lets out a long breath, surveying his students, their tired and hopeful faces, and his resolution finally solidifies in his gut. He squares his shoulders. "I was denied tenure."

There is a stricken quiet, and Levi sees the realization of what that means for them just sink in. He shakes his head and keeps talking, voice harsh, "So this is what's happening. We have a year. In that year, it is my goal to secure funding so I can get tenure, and it is your responsibility to do your best damn work you've ever done to show how _grateful_," and he grates the word out, hating Erwin Smith and thanking him at the same time, "we all are for this continued opportunity to keep studying and working here. Got it?"

His team visibly deflates, Petra sighing and seeming almost relieved.

Levi forgets, sometimes, that it's not just him who needs this job. They need it too. Without him there, his grad students would lose almost any chance they had at completing their degrees. He nods curtly to himself before he claps his hands. "We have a shitton of work to do. Let's get to it. But first, get out of my lab. I need to finish cleaning."

* * *

[.end chapter 1.]


	2. so point me toward the morning

**Standard Disclaimers Apply**

* * *

**Chapter 2 - so point me toward the morning**

* * *

"Fuck," Levi sighs roughly, leaning back in his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing the bone there harshly as he tries to think, eyes burning from the hours he has spent staring at the computer screen, trying to figure out what grant proposal he can put together first. There's the research that Erd and his team is doing, but that isn't far enough along to put together a convincing pitch. Neither is the project that Petra's on...

Dragging his hands through his hair with a loud exhalation, Levi realizes that he's at the end of his rope. It's been two weeks already since his deal with Smith, and he has no progress to show for it. His fingers tighten, pulling his hair until it is taut, a very physical pressure against his scalp. He has to figure this out, and fast, so this Sword of Damocles can stop hovering over him already.

Levi rights himself, looks around his office. Sitting in here isn't going to do him any more good than it has already.

He makes his way down to his lab, footsteps clicking authoritatively on the tile floor. Dust motes swirl in the light streaming in through the windows, disturbed by the wind of his passage, and Levi pushes open the door to the lab with one shoulder, raising his eyebrow at his students within. Levi does a quick headcount and nods to himself.

Raising his voice, Levi says, "Good, most of you are here. Alright, you guys. Come over here, I need to talk to you all for a moment." Levi waits until he has everyone's attention, some of them shedding gloves as they take a few much-needed steps away from their machines. "We need to come up with solid plans about our research and goals for the grant proposal bullshit circus we'll be entering here soon."

Levi catches Erd making a face. Resigned, Levi crosses his arms and asks, steady and calm, "Alright, Erd, what fucking problem do you have with that?"

Erd jerks guiltily, but he swallows, steels himself, used to Levi's casual vulgarity. "Why do we have to come up with more projects? We haven't even submitted anything yet, and we already have plenty of things on our plates."

"Better safe than sorry. If we talk it out, we can focus on the projects that are more solid and come up with a fucking golden timeline for the proposals. I'm not going to bank on something that hasn't happened yet, so. Meetings." Levi meets all of his students' eyes and nods once, sharp, when he sees understanding and resolve in each of them. "Good. Now. Plans, ideas, I want to hear all of them. I want to hear how far you all are on your projects, anything you think is interesting or worth exploring. We'll go around the room. Petra, you first."

* * *

The meeting runs long, though it is arguably fruitful, as Levi and his grad students get a firmer schedule set about the tracks to take their research. One hour turns to two, and Levi orders everyone to get back to their lab work, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves to join them. Outside, the light dims and disappears completely as the hours wind on.

Levi is hunched over a microscope, taking measurements, when Petra's voice interrupts him.

"Captain?"

Levi twitches. "Yes, Petra?"

"It's almost two in the morning." Oh? Levi glances over at a clock, and sure enough. The laboratory is deserted aside from the two of them, the hour hand pointing almost accusingly at the two. "Shouldn't you be going home?"

"I could ask you the same question." Levi groans as he forces himself up, his spine popping as he does. "Don't you have a life or something to get to?"

Petra shakes her head and smiles faintly. "I gave it to science," she says, and Levi smirks a little at that before he sighs. Petra's hands are shaking where they're clenched on the table, and her hazel eyes stand out stark against her skin, waxy and washed out in the harsh fluorescent light. She's listing to the side just standing there; Levi might be called heartless, but Petra has proven her competence time and time again, and he can't stand to see her like this.

He nudges her with a hand on her shoulder. Petra jolts, startled like some kind of small forest creature, and Levi shakes his head. "You're dead on your feet. Go home."

She -bless her, stubborn girl- stands her ground, shakes her head even though that visibly disorients her. "Not unless you do too. I've found you sleeping here for the last three days, and I'm not going to do it again."

And Levi can feel his shoulders loosening, a fond (irritating) sort of affection burning up below his sternum. He sighs, rubs the inside corners of his eyes, which feel gritty and strained. Petra's probably right, damn her. He needs a break. So Levi puts his hands on Petra's shoulders and pushes gently again, enough to make her sway only a little bit. "Don't nag, it's not charming. I'll go home. You go ahead so I can lock up."

Petra looks at Levi suspiciously, and he rolls his eyes.

"I promise, alright. Go. I'll be right behind you."

"I'll wait outside-"

"You will _go home and go the fuck to sleep_. If I see you here earlier than nine, I'll kick you out for a few days, understand?"

Petra looks for a moment like shes' going to argue, but then she seems to deflate, nodding as she gathers her books and papers. She pauses in the doorway and turns around. "Captain?" she asks, her voice uncertain. "We are going to be okay, aren't we? We're going to get this right?"

(Levi is struck, suddenly, with how very young she is, and his heart goes out to her.)

"Who the fuck do you think am I, Petra?" he asks, one eyebrow cocked. His voice is gentler than the words would usually allow, something approaching reassuring, even for his monotonous tone. "Of course we're going to get this done, and then we're going to throw it in everyone's faces, aren't we?"

She grins. "Yeah. Night, Captain!"

Levi waves her out the door, only lowering his hand once the door has shut behind her. Petra has a point. He probably should go home and sleep there for at least one night this week. Levi flexes his hands, looks around the lab.

He'll leave tonight.

A machine beeps, at the end of its cycle, and Levi looks over at it.

Alright, so he'll leave as soon as he's done taking measurements and finishing this up. No big deal.

(One thing to finish turns to two, turns to four o'clock in the morning and four cups of coffee later, and it surprises Levi not at all when he folds his arms up on a lab table and lowers his head, surrendering to the darkness behind his eyelids.)

* * *

"Levi."

No, Levi's sleeping here. Whoever's calling him can go fuck themself.

A cough. "Levi."

_Fuck_ no.

"Levi, if you don't respond, I'm going to start calling you Doctor-"

His eyes jerk open. (When had he even closed them? He can't quite remember). Levi snaps upright, whips his head towards the voice and-

Doctor Erwin Smith.

_Damn it_.

Heart racing, Levi rubs his face roughly, hoping he doesn't look as wrong-footed as he feels. He inhales shakily. Maybe if Levi pretends hard enough, when he opens his eyes again, Smith will have disappeared, taking his perfectly styled hair, rolled up sleeves, and coffee with him.

Coffee.

Levi's skin prickles a moment later as he takes his hand away from his eyes, swallows tightly before speaking. "I'm sure," Levi grates out, his voice rough, "that you have a very compelling reason to be here bothering me in the middle of my very important work, but I'm willing to let it slide right now if you give me your coffee."

Smith, in Levi's periphery, blinks slowly, then looks down at the mug in his hands. He chuckles under his breath, but he passes the coffee cup to Levi anyway, who takes it with greedy, clutching hands. Caffeine, pure and bitter and lovely, floods Levi's tongue, sending pricks of heat along his arms as his hair raises. Smith at least takes his coffee properly, black as the day is long.

Smith waits politely while Levi inhales his relinquished coffee. "I take it that you like the coffee?" he asks mildly.

"I'm marrying it," Levi says into the cup. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sets down the mug and looks up at Smith. "Alright, what do you want?"

"I was wondering why the lights in this lab were on at six o'clock in the morning," Smith says in that same, fucking even tone of voice that makes Levi's murderous impulses surge. "I apologize for, ah…" and he pauses, just long enough to make Levi want to start twitching, before continuing, "...interrupting your work. I have to admit, I should have guessed that I would find you sleeping in here. Would you like me to-"

Levi interrupts, caustic, "Leave me alone? Yes, I would like some time to get my proposals sent out before I'm taken before that shitty fucking joke of a committee and reamed again. Thank you for your concern, Doctor Smith-"

"Erwin."

"-_Doctor Smith_, but I'm doing fine." Levi takes another bracing drink of coffee and evenly meets Smith's steady, flint-blue gaze. He feels oddly vulnerable, caught sleeping here like he was, and Smith's obvious scrutiny isn't making the situation any more bearable. Levi starts to unroll his sleeves from where they had been bunched around his elbows, and Smith's gaze follows the motion of his fingers.

There's a quiet noise, and it takes Levi a moment to register the soft hum as coming from Smith, and by the time he does, Smith has already turned his back and is headed out. Levi opens his mouth-

"I wasn't here to demand progress immediately. You need your time. Just remember to go home to sleep occasionally," Smith calls over his shoulder. "A top researcher like yourself should know the importance of getting real rest."

And the door swings shut behind him.

Levi's teeth click as he closes his mouth.

What the fuck?

"Where the hell does he get off, telling me what to do?" Levi mutters under his breath as he opens a drawer and fishes around for the clean shirt he knows is in there. His continued bitching is muffled as he changes, but it never really ceases. "Stupid, controlling bastard. It's been two _weeks_, not even a full month yet! Give me some fucking time, you fucking piece of shit fuck-"

Levi is still swearing when the first of his students begin to filter in, two hours later.

* * *

The following Monday, the sun is beginning to set outside, throwing red and bronze streaks across his laboratory, when Hanji strides through the door, getting everyone's attention with two sharp claps of their hands. "Alright, sorry everyone, but I'm here to steal your doctor!"

"Does that mean we get to go home early?" someone, probably Oluo, asks from the back of the room.

"No, it just means I get to escape you bottom-feeders for a bit. Keep working," Levi snaps back, amused, and he waves at Hanji to lead the way back to his office. "Alright, Hanji, what did you want to know?"

Casually, too casually, Hanji drawls, "Oh, nothing in particular. The state of your mental health, which student is already on your 'when I inevitably have a psychotic breakdown, they're gonna be the one I kill first' list, how your grant process stuff is going." Their eyes light on a calendar, and Hanji lets out a noise previously known only to dogs and whistles. "Fuck yeah, that's right! More importantly, _most importantly_, have you figured out what your Halloween costume is gonna be?"

Levi raises an eyebrow. "I don't do Halloween, Hanji."

Hanji clasps their hand to their chest, miming staggering around in shock, and Levi watches, unmoved but amused. "You _don't_ take an opportunity to scare children? Levi, who are you?"

"Hanji, you've worked with me for the last three years. I haven't celebrated Halloween since I was ten, and I'm not going to start fucking around again now. Why are you so surprised?"

"Ehh, the way your students talk, your heart shrinks each year, so you might just collapse in on all of that bitter hatred." They grin widely. "Last I heard, someone had started a betting pool about when you'd try to ban Christmas, Grinch-style."

Levi raises an eyebrow, the side of his mouth twitching with something he won't admit is humor. "And?"

"If you let yourself go before next year, I will be so upset and I won't split my imaginary pot of winnings with you," Hanji decrees impishly.

"My poor, empty wallet." Levi's tone is endlessly dry, and he suffers through Hanji's faux-offended scoffing before he picks up his papers from his desk and begins organizing them neatly. "No, my plan on Halloween is to hole myself up in my bar and drink until I can forget the cold. It's strangely similar to how I prefer to spend most of my shitty Fridays."

Hanji winces slightly.

Levi raises an eyebrow at them. "What?"

"Well, it _is _going to be Halloween, Levi. Your quiet little hole-in-the-wall bar isn't going to be quiet at all, because of the parties and idiots in costumes…." They trail off meaningfully.

It's tough work to suppress the groan the thought elicits, and honestly, Levi doesn't try all that hard. "I know. Let me dream."

"No such luck. It's one of the closest bars to campus, and I had to rescue you from it last year, remember? Luckily for you," Hanji says brightly, "I know a great place that's right by where you live. Quiet, guaranteed only a few people for company, max, and they have a great selection of booze, music, _and_ movies for your enjoyment!"

Levi side-eyes Hanji, hands stilling on his papers. "I'm listening."

"My apartment!"

"Not listening anymore."

"Levi, Levi, don't be like that! Just give it a thought!" Hanji pleads as they flop an arm across his shoulders dramatically.

Suffering through their attentions, Levi shoves his now-organized papers into a folder before brushing Hanji off. He sighs, shakes his head. "I'll think about it next time I'm in the bathroom for a while, okay? Now that we've gotten off-track, what did you actually come here for?"

Hanji shrugs one shoulder, tucks their thumbs into their belt loops. "A little birdy told me that you'd been sleeping in your lab too much, so I'm supposed to make sure you go home." They pause, considering, and then their grin widens. "After drinks, of course. I have to make sure you're doing your work right, but that's just me being a good friend."

"Of course."

"Glad you see it my way, short-stack."

"If you were _anybody_ else, four-eyes…." Levi shakes his head. "Whatever. You mentioned booze, and I intend on making you pay for at least the first round. Just let me tell my team where I'm going first. They deserve a little time off."

* * *

They end up, to no one's surprise, at Levi's favorite bar (a short walk from the campus, and a comfortable distance from his apartment), sitting at Levi's favorite table. Hanji sets down Levi's usual drink in front of him, and they enjoy a semi-companionable silence mixed with some easy small talk for the first few rounds, before Hanji apparently deems Levi liquored up enough to talk seriously.

"Alright, Levi, lay it on me. What's eating you about the grant business?"

Levi cocks an eyebrow. "You mean, besides the general bullshit about the whole process and the backstabbing and ass-kissing that usually goes into it?"

"Yeah, yeah, exactly, besides those minor details."

Minor details.

The things that have kept him from getting funded for the last ten years aren't exactly _minor_ details to Levi, but he holds his tongue, closing his eyes tightly for a brief moment. "Alright then, Hanji, my problem is that I don't know if I can do it." Levi holds up a hand to halt Hanji's reflexive objection, and continues tersely, "I don't have enough preliminary research put together to bring to the table for a serious grant bid, and I want to get this inane, bullshit requirement out of the way before Smith starts breathing down the back of my neck."

Hanji opens their mouth, shuts it with an impish look. Levi, about to take a drink, slowly lowers his mug and squints at them, waiting. He draws back his foot in preparation.

As expected, Hanji can't keep the comment to themself. "Well, yeah, but Erwin would pretty much have to kneel to get to your neck anyw- _ow!_"

Levi growls under his breath, retracting his foot from where he had kicked them. "_Height jokes aside, Hanji_, I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do here. It's not like I haven't been applying for grants while I was employed before. It's just. All of my proposals got turned down. Meanwhile, you could shit onto a napkin, submit it, and have ten agencies falling over themselves to give you money in an hour."

The fact that Hanji doesn't disagree with him is one of the reasons that Hanji is Levi's favorite. They spread their hands on the table, palms up. "You just need research that's sexy!"

"It's science, it isn't supposed to be sexy," Levi grumbles mulishly.

"You, my dear, Bonapartian friend, have been doing science _all _wrong. Research is always sexy if you play it right."

"You think you're so clever."

"Ah-ah, no," Hanji tsks, waving a finger in Levi's face with far too much dexterity given how much alcohol Levi knows they have consumed. "I _know_ I'm clever." The easy grin drops off their face a moment later and they cross their hands over their beer, looking serious. "But I'm also serious. You don't just need good research, you need sexy research. Buzzword research. Things that look good, not just to study and work on, but that look good getting money too. Academia is very concerned about what the projects look like because not all of our donors are academics. They don't all know, or care, about what you're researching, as long as it sounds good in casual conversation."

Levi sighs roughly. "That, Hanji, is dumb as fuck. Research is research. It's always going to be relevant somehow."

Hanji sniffs. "I never said it was intelligent. And you're right, science is always going to be important, no matter what your research focuses on, but you're supposed to draw in outside interest. You can't do that with…" They tap their finger on the glass. "What _are _you working on right now?"

That derails them for a good hour, with Levi explaining his ongoing projects to Hanji while the other scientist viciously and gleefully tries to poke holes in his test methods and hypothesis. When Levi drains his glass again, he looks around the bar, at the clock, winces.

"Alright, we should get going."

Hanji looks up, blinking behind their glasses. "Hm? Why? We haven't figured out what to do yet."

Levi's mouth ticks to the side. "It's Monday night. And Monday night means football, which means that little brat over there under the TV is about to get rowdy and obnoxious if his team is playing."

"Enthusiastic supporter?" Hanji asks, pushing themself up with a hand braced on the table as they look over to see the boy in question stand, wobbly from alcohol, and bellow at the screen:

"Hell yeah! Go-" the boy pauses, squints at the TV, and then leans over to one of his friends, the small blond one who has a pained look on his face, visible even in the bar's dim lighting. "Armin, who's playing?"

(Hanji's eyebrow quirks upwards. Levi sighs heavily as he digs his wallet out of his back pocket.)

His friend doesn't look like he wants to answer, but he quietly responds nevertheless, and the obnoxious brat straightens again. "GO SCOUTS! FUCK THE TITANS!"

"More like," Levi says dryly, "he hates one particular team and roots for whoever's playing against them. Let's leave before he gets worse." With that, he stands, pushing back his chair and fishing out a few dollars to leave as a tip.

Hanji mimics his actions, though their attention is still on the boy, a wide smile on their face. "Don't you have him in one of your classes? He looks familiar."

"Yeah, and the sooner he realizes that he gets called on more after he's annoyed me at the bar, the less fun I'm going to have in that class, so you, Doctor Hanji, aren't going to say a word." Levi points at them, and Hanji holds up their hands innocently.

"I would never ruin your fun, Levi."

Levi scoffs, suffers through Hanji's friendly shoulder-bump as they walk out together. They both move to the side of the sidewalk to allow a group of three students -one girl who looks about ready to break someone's jaw, one large man built like a goddamned tank, and one skinny, unfairly tall man- pass into the bar. Sneering at them as they pass, Levi hikes his hood up over his head. "It's definitely good we left. Those three heckle the drunk kid until he gets even worse."

"I take it you've been there to see it happen?"

"More often than I'd like. Which means I've seen it more than once, and even that once was enough." Levi sighs roughly, digging the fingers of one hand into the inner corners of his eyes. "Fucking college kids."

Hanji grins widely as a gust of cold wind stirs their bangs, making their already flushed cheeks even redder. "Our lives are a trainwreck, aren't they? With the two of us put in charge of young, impressionable students? It's amazing we haven't killed anyone yet, fucking christ almighty."

The wind flutters around him, and he breathes in deeply, letting the cold coat his throat and nose. Levi leans his head back and breathes out and watches the vapor-cloud dissipate. "Something like that," he allows a moment later with a faint smile.

* * *

"So I will see you on Halloween, right?" Hanji asks a few days later, apropos of nothing, and Levi waves his hand idly, looking through a stereoscope.

"Only if you keep your promise to supply the booze, shit-for-brains."

Hanji takes it as the answer it is and leaves, laughter and the vague chemical scent of acid lingering behind them as his students murmur to themselves, confused.

* * *

(Levi wakes up on the thirtieth of October in his lab after another long night of work, face squished against the smooth black counter tops and the edge of a spiral notebook, just in time to see the door of his lab swing shut. No one else is in here, though, but there is a lone, hot cup of coffee, waiting just outside of arm's reach. A note, attached to it, reads:

_"Beds are still more comfortable than your lab tables._

_ -E. Smith"_

Levi swears, crumples the note, and vindictively holds it over a Bunsen burner until it's nothing more than ash.

He drinks the coffee anyway.)

* * *

As it turns out, drinking over at Hanji's on Halloween is the best idea they could've had, since all of Levi's usual bars (and therefore, all of his usual spots at said bars) were taken up by idiots in costumes who should've been able to find something better than binge drinking to do with their Friday night, like studying. Even if Hanji makes Levi wear little devil horns and answer the door to pass out candy to kids. It's a small concession for the top-shelf booze they bought for him.

Levi tips back his tumbler as the doorbell rings and he tries not to worry about grants for a night.

* * *

Which is, of course, why Levi heads back to the lab the instant that Hanji sets him free. He intends to get work done; he really, really does in all of his half-drunk earnestness, but only an hour into Levi's inebriated midnight craze, his eyes light on the empty coffee mug that Levi has no intention of giving back to Smith, and his train of thought is instantly derailed.

That _fucker_.

Who the hell does he think he is, sneaking into Levi's lab and probably... Probably watching him sleep? Like a gigantic fucking creep. Fuck that guy.

"Fuck him," Levi growls, and he finds a pad of yellow sticky notes and a pen. Writes "Fuck you" across the top of the pad, continues it down and down until he's filled up the whole thing. And once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, until he ends up with a sticky note, finally, that says:

_"you're an overcontrolling bastard and if I didn't want tenure so much, I would've told you to kiss my ass a month ago._

_ -Levi"_

And Levi is _just_ drunk enough to go slide the note under Smith's office door, made bold and reckless by the brandy still working its way through him. _Fuck_, Levi thinks, _I should've... fucking. Told him about trespassing. Because that was totally trespassing, and that shit's illegal._

Maybe another note. Just one.

* * *

Levi swears that he'll be able to focus after this next note, it's just. He's so pissed off, now that he's letting himself think about it, and doesn't Smith, with his fucking hair and stupid broad hands and self-important attitude, deserve to know about it all?

He'll stop after this. He'll be able to focus once he's got it all off his chest after all, Levi reasons as he slides another sticky note under Smith's door.

* * *

Levi wakes up the next morning in the lab, mouth stale and head throbbing. Groaning, he pushes himself upright and squints around the room. Surveys the small carnage of sticky notes, most of them illegible, surrounding him with no small amount of trepidation.

Shit.

Levi remembers, though an alcohol soaked haze, leaving some notes under Smith's door, but if this is anything to go by... the number might have been greater than he realized. And, if he's right in remember the contents of these notes. Fuck, he needs to get them back.

As soon as the idea comes, Levi is standing, and he heads down the sunlit hallways towards Smith's office, hoping beyond hope that since it's Saturday, Smith will be late in, or perhaps won't have shown up at all. But the universe continues to think that he's the brunt of several cosmic jokes.

Smith's office door is open.

Levi thinks he can see his life flashing before his eyes. Slowly, he leans around the doorjamb.

And there is Smith, calmly sipping a cup of coffee, with one eyebrow cocked as he reads a pale yellow sticky note. More of them are scattered around, either stuck to the pads of Smith's fingers or along the edge of his desk. Wincing, Levi pulls back. He has no idea how he's going to get around this. Fuck. This is going to get him _definitely_ fired.

"Levi."

_Shit._

But Levi steels himself and steps fully into the doorway, crossing his arms across his body defensively. "What?"

Smith cocks one of his fingers, baring the written side of one of the sticky notes to Levi. "I wasn't aware that you knew the penal code in regards to trespassing violations."

Levi's mouth ticks to the side, and he shrugs one stiff shoulder. "I looked it up last night, apparently."

"You looked up a lot of things last night, it seems," Smith says as he tilts another note. Across the top, Levi can make out "A list of synonyms for shit, and by shit, I really mean you," with a list in increasingly scrawling handwriting below and he closes his eyes. He is never, ever drinking again. Smith continues with, "You have some frankly alarming ideas of what I get up to at six in the morning here."

Levi feels almost obligated to interject, "You snuck into my lab to leave me coffee. That's creepy enough on it's own."

"I think this one is my favorite," Smith says, ignoring Levi. "It's nice, simple, and to the point."

Levi doesn't want to look.

He looks up anyway.

_'Thanks, dad,'_ and 'dad' is underlined approximately seven times, as if that would make it more sarcastic. Levi hates his drunk brain. He never should have put any of those under the door.

"I think I'll have it framed."

"Oh fuck you," Levi says, but it has no venom to it. Smith just shakes his head and peels the last note off his fingers.

"After how much you had to drink last night, I must say that I admire your dedication to work. I was surprised to find you in here this morning. Though next time, I would advise you to refrain, either from the drinking or from the, ah. Note-leaving."

Levi winces. "I wasn't exactly _planning_ on writing all of those notes. I just. Got carried away."

Smith wordlessly shakes his head, smiling. "It seems like it. Have a good day, Levi. I recommend taking at least the morning off, if I can't convince you to take the entire day. I'll see you either tomorrow or Monday."

Levi blinks.

He's not fired? He should absolutely be fired for this.

But this is the second gift horse he's gotten, and Levi is no more keen to take it for granted than he was the first one. He nods shortly and about-faces, heading back to the lab as panic sizzles down his nerves. That was a mind-bogglingly stupid stunt for him to pull, and the fact that it even kind of came out well has Levi breathing in and out in short, controlled bursts as he gathers up his wallet, pen, notes. He's about to grab his coat and swing out of the lab when he finally sees it.

Levi lets out a short bark of laughter.

There, previously going unnoticed on the counter, is an innocuous, lukewarm cup of coffee with a note attached to it (reading '_You are one of the only people I know who thinks doing science drunk is an even better idea than doing it sober. Perhaps you should take some time off and relax for once. I know an excellent masseuse. - E. Smith') _, and seriously, Levi hates the guy.

He still drinks the coffee.

* * *

**[.end chapter 2.]**


End file.
